Author's Note:

An AU where Stiles knows his dad isn't his biological father but doesn't care because his dad raised him as his own knowing he biologically isn't and loves him fiercely anyway. Set during the Leviathan arc, but all references to Supernatural season canon will be vague-the focus is on the Teen Wolf canon, not Supernatural. And, yeah, we're not even going to approach why the angels couldn't use Stiles' body as a vessel, mm'kay?

His brothers used to visit more often but haven't in awhile (because of apocalypse stuff or something, IDK). Sam used to visit when he was in college. The Nogitsune changes that. It calls Dean one night and convinces him to come. It doesn't know the Winchesters are hunters because Stiles doesn't know.

Set during De-void. Based on a tumblr post. You can find the origin story on via the series I'm Not a Hero (We Never Are) on my AO3 account (linked on my profile.)

They're in Oregon when the blue phone goes off. It's the one burner phone they never got rid of, smeared with bright blue paint from where the little smart ass had grabbed it with dirty fingers.

It's the one number they've kept active for their little brother's sake.

It wasn't like with Adam. Stiles had no use for John Winchester in his life. His mother had married a sheriff's deputy when she was a few months pregnant with him, and promised that Dean and Sam could visit whenever they wanted but John didn't need to be a part of his life unless he really wanted it. She was in love with Deputy Stilinski and he was well prepared to raise the baby with her as his own.

Dean wondered, after they found out about Adam, if that was why his dad had tried so hard with Adam and never let them know about him. Stiles was younger than Adam, but their dad had never tried to be his parent. He gave Stiles a father who would always be there at the cost of never having him in his life. He never even joined Dean and Sam in Beacon Hills when they went to see him. He asked after him, of course-in that vague way you ask about cousins you only met once-but he never spoke to him once before he died.

Maybe it was better that way, for Stiles' sake.

Dean hasn't gotten a phone call from Stiles in 174 days. It's not unusual. The last time he'd called Stiles himself he'd told him he might be out of service for a while. Between him and Sam, they'd sent postcards every so often to Stiles since Sam left Stanford, and Stiles emailed Sam every time they came in and a few times in between.

They're in Oregon when the blue phone goes off, and Dean has a really bad feeling about it.

"Stiles?" Dean pulls over to the side of the road to answer it, not trusting the feeling in his gut for this to be a portent of good news. Sam sits up fully, leaning over to hear as much as he can too.

Stiles is the one thing in his life that has ever been good always. Stiles has been lucky enough to be so far removed from the dark world Dean lives in, and he likes to think sometimes that maybe Claudia and his mom are looking down on the kid. If anyone deserved a good life, it was Stiles. That's why Sam didn't visit when Dean was in hell, and why Dean didn't visit during that long year when he thought Sam was locked in the cage. Sam hadn't visited then, either. (Dean had called Stiles twice that year though, just to hear his voice and know that Stiles was still there.) Neither one of them had told Stiles about the times they were, for all intents and purposes, dead.

"Dee... Dean?" Dean hasn't heard Stiles cry often. The day he'd called to say his mom was sick and the day of her funeral are the only times he remembers. Hearing the choked sobs in his voice now is gutting and Dean hates it.

"What's wrong, kid?" It comes out a little more gruffly than he means for it to, but he isn't sure he can help it. This is his kid brother and he's upset.

"Something... something ba-bad is happening. I'm sca... scared, D-dean." The stuttering way his words come out makes the back of his head buzz.

"What's going on, Stiles? Where are you?"

The directions Stiles had given them leads to an industrial building. He doesn't recognize the area of Beacon Hills at all, and neither does Sam. They head up to the top floor and slip in easily enough, shutting the door behind them. Stiles is standing in front of a wall of windows, facing them. He's silent.

The door behind them begins to move, and Dean and Sam scatter into the open space, cautiously pulling out their weapons as they hide in opposite dark corners.

What neither one of them expects to see is Sheriff Stilinski.

Stilinski walks in slowly, a pair of handcuffs in one hand. He drops the cuffs from his fingers and leaves them hanging, the metal clanking against itself.

"You want to handcuff me?" Stiles asks. Dean doesn't know what's happening. The look he shares with Sam confirms that he doesn't either. Every conversation about Stilinski either one of them has had with Stiles tells them that this should never be a possibility.

Stilinski walks down the steps as he speaks, "If my son is still here, if there's still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he'll put these on willingly and he'll come with me, because he knows... I'm here to protect him. From himself and from others."

The feeling of innate wrongness he's felt buzzing in the back of his head since Stiles called suddenly intensifies. Dean takes a step forward, his gun at the ready.

But then Stiles lifts his hands up. He lets Stilinski maneuver the cuffs around his wrists and lock them in place.

Dean and Sam both creep forward in tandem anyway, prepared to defend him if they need to.

But then Stiles looks up and his entire face changes. It's like something malevolent and dark is suddenly wearing his face.

Dean knows at the same instant that Stilinski shakes his head slightly and says,"You're not my son," that Stiles isn't Stiles right now.

With a sudden twist of his wrists, the cuffs break apart, pieces flying to the ground. Dean and Sam rush forward as three strangers flank behind Stilinski, two men and a woman who looks like she belongs in high school. One of the men is older, carrying himself in a way that reminds Dean of his father.

The demon laughs darkly with Stiles' voice, and the girl pulls up a taser and shoots without hesitation. The demon catches the bolt with inhuman speed and pulls at the wires as the electricity sparks wildly. It pulls the taser from her hands by the wires and slams it into the ground in one quick movement.

The man with dark hair suddenly growls and shifts. He goes on the offensive with a strike, but the demon catches him and wrenches his left arm backward, and Dean can almost feel the bones breaking. It slams his face into the table, and then pulls him back, throwing the werewolf against a nearby concrete pillar. The werewolf coughs as he lands harshly on the ground.

The other man cocks his gun, pointing it directly at the demon, at Stiles. It turns towards the sound, his eerie grin growing wider and open as it faces the man directly.

Stilinski puts his hand up towards the man and starts to speak, "Argent, listen to me. Don't do this."

The werewolf manages to stand, moving a little closer in slow movements, taking in the scene. Sam points his gun at the werewolf, but the creature doesn't take a step closer to Stiles and the demon wearing him. He just watches.

"Why not? I've done it before. Werewolves. Berserkers. I can easily add a nogitsune to the list." The older man, Argent, replies to Stilinski, officially marking himself as Hunter in Dean's head. He doesn't recognise the word the hunter calls the demon, but he doesn't think it's important. Not now.

Stilinski cocks his gun and points it at Argent. The demon raises Stiles' eyebrows as if surprised, then tilts his head slightly. Argent looks at Stilinski without moving, their eyes meeting.

"You're not going to shoot my son."

"You said it yourself, Sheriff." Argent says. The demon tilts Stiles' head again as he watches.

"That's not your son." The hunter finishes.

"Put it down," Stilinski speaks, "put it down."

The demon breathes Stiles into his face again, taking in Stiles' mannerisms and inflection. "Dad, he's gonna shoot me," it swallows, "He's gonna kill me, Dad." Dean decides in that moment that the demon needs to die. He aims his gun towards the body of his teenaged brother, his hand wavering more than he wants it to.

"Don't listen." Argent says to Stilinski. Dean ignores him. He knows not to listen to the demon impersonating his brother. He cocks the gun.

"Put it down, put it down. Now! Do it!" Stilinski yells.

The demon tilts Stiles' head at Argent again.

"Put it down!" Stilinski repeats.

"Pull the trigger. C'mon." The demon taunts Argent, staring right at him before he turns to Dean, and repeats it.

"Listen to me, you put your guns down right now!" Stilinski screams.

"Shoot me." The demon says simply, eyes flicking between Argent and Dean.

"Put the guns down now!" Stilinski repeats, again.

"Dad!" The girl suddenly yells. Argent's eyes briefly flicker to her before they go right back to the demon.

"Shoot me!" Stiles' voice yells.

"Put the guns down!" Dean ignores Stilinski again.

"Shoot me!" the demon screams. It vibrates through Stiles' body, shaking his whole being. It's guttural and demanding and terrifying.

"Argent, you put it down!" Stilinski yells yet again.

"Strife." The girl whispers. Dean focuses on her suddenly. Something about it rings in his ears.

The light streaming in through the windows darkens significantly as the sun finally sets.

"Stop, stop it! This is what he wants. This is exactly what he wants." The girl yells. Everyone turns to look at her.

The demon tilts its head towards Allison, "Not exactly," and the focus goes to Stiles as he looks between them all, "I was kinda hoping Scott would be here. But I'm glad you all have your guns out. Because you're not here to kill me." It turns around, facing the window with its back towards them.

Four beings materialize through the window from black smoke, stepping forward. They're not demons, but he doesn't know what they are.

"You're here to protect me." The demon walks backwards between Argent and Stilinski as the black creatures suddenly start swinging swords.

Argent tries to shoot them, but the gun doesn't fire. He pulls out a second out of his jacket as Stilinski starts shooting at the creatures. Within seconds, they're both shooting. Dean and Sam join without a pause, shooting bullets that don't seem to have any effect at all. The other two creatures wrap around to the other side of Stiles' body, but the werewolf and the hunter's daughter meet them there, the girl whipping out a chinese ring dagger.

Dean doesn't know how long it lasts. Seconds, minutes? But it ends suddenly. The black clad creatures and Stiles simply vanish.

His innocent little brother is gone.

A few seconds later, two people rush in. Dean recognises the boy as Stiles' best friend Scott, though he's bulked up a lot since he last saw him. The girl isn't at all familiar.

"What happened?" Scott asks before Dean can even begin to interrogate anyone about what the hell just happened with his brother.

"They disappeared. They literally just vanished." The hunter's daughter answers.

"And so did Stiles." Sam says in tandem with Stilinski.

Dean is tired and he's pissed and Stiles wasn't supposed to get involved with this supernatural bullshit. It's not fucking fair.

He catches Sam's eye, meets the determined glare.

Then there is Sam's gun to Argent's head and Dean's to the werewolf's.

"What the fuck is going on, Stilinski?"

"I know this is confusing, Winchester, but-"

"Why is this werewolf still alive? He attacked Stiles! And how did you know that a demon was possessing my brother?" Dean cocks the gun, the click of it echoing.

"It's not a demon." The hunter's daughter blurts out before anyone can speak. Dean stares at her, so she continues, "It's a nogitsune. A dark kitsune. It feeds of chaos, pain, and strife."

"Why did you antagonize it if you knew that? You're a hunter." Dean spat at Argent.

"Dean, it's not that simple-" Scott starts, obviously recognizing him. Argent gets a strange look on his face.

"Dean Winchester?"

"Sam, let him go," Dean says, not looking up from Argent's face.

"Does Stiles know his brothers are hunters?" Argent asks, looking at Stilinski and then Scott.

"No. He was supposed to stay away from this. He was never supposed to know."

"It's my fault." The werewolf says. Dean looks at the werewolf at his feet, surprised. There is such a resigned look on the man's face.

"No, it's not your fault, Derek! Blaming anyone isn't going to help Stiles right now anyway. We need a plan." Scott says.

Dean lowers the gun.